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25: Fault Lines
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2026-03-17 00:30:27No one touches me after.
Not right away. The room stays frozen in the aftermath of splintered wood and stunned silence, like everyone is waiting for something else to break. My ears ring. My chest rises and falls too fast, breath scraping raw against my throat. I’m dimly aware of Asher’s arm still around me—solid, warm, real—but I don’t lean into him. I don’t da
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Underneath The Moonlight 41: What The Blood Doesn’t Say
Dawn creeps in like it doesn’t want to be noticed. Gray light bleeds through the broken windows of my house, settling over overturned furniture and dark stains on the floor. The place smells wrong—metallic, sharp, old fear layered over newer panic. I stand in the middle of my living room, arms wrapped around myself, staring at the dried smear near the door. Blood. My chest tightens, then loosens again, like my body can’t decide whether to panic or go numb. Asher crouches near the stain, fingers hovering just above it. He doesn’t touch it. He doesn’t need to. His eyes track patterns I can’t see—direction, force, intent. “Say it,” I whisper. “Just say it.” He looks up slowly, and the tension in his face makes my stomach drop. “This isn’t fatal,” he says. “Not even close.” Relief slams into me so hard my knees almost buckle. I inhale sharply, air burning my lungs. “She’s alive,” I say, more to myself than him. “Yes.” I swallow, forcing myself to stay standing. “Th
Underneath The Moonlight 40: When The Past Still Breathes
The forest is different at night. I don’t mean darker. I mean aware. Every step Asher takes is deliberate, silent in a way that feels impossible for someone his size. He moves like the trees part for him out of respect, not because he forces them to. I struggle to match his pace, my boots brushing leaves I swear weren’t there a second ago. “Slow,” he murmurs without turning. “And stay where I can see you.” I bristle instinctively. “I’m not—” He stops so abruptly I almost collide with his back. When he turns, his expression wipes the protest straight out of my throat. This isn’t the Asher who stands tall and composed in the pack house. This is something stripped raw—eyes sharp, jaw tight, tension coiled beneath his skin like a loaded weapon. “This isn’t the place to argue,” he says quietly. “Not here.” I swallow and nod. He turns again, and we keep moving. The deeper we go, the more the forest presses in. Branches arch overhead, blocking moonlight, forcing shadows
Underneath The Moonlight 39: Under The Moon’s Watch
The forest is thick with shadows, but I move like I’ve been here before, silent, careful. Every branch that snaps underfoot makes me flinch. The rogue wolves I saw from the clearing are still somewhere out there, and I can feel them before I see them. My chest tightens, but I push it down. Panic will get me caught. I pressed myself against a tree, barely daring to breathe. Their low growls drift through the underbrush, echoing in a way that makes my stomach twist. I’ve never faced them alone. Never been this exposed. The voice in my head doesn’t speak yet. It’s watching. Waiting. I feel its presence like a pulse, steady, almost impatient. Good. Stay sharp, it seems to say. I peek around the tree. A wolf prowls near a fallen log, its fur black in the moonlight, eyes glinting like molten gold. It sniffs the air, nostrils flaring. My heart stops. My instincts scream
Underneath The Moonlight 38: No Turning Back
I wake before sunrise, the cold bite of the morning air pressing against my skin as I squeeze through the thick underbrush. Last night’s hiding spot is still etched in my memory—the rustle of leaves, the low growls of rogue wolves retreating, the pounding of my heart as I crouched, frozen. Every instinct in me screams caution, but the urgency behind my decision refuses to quiet. I cannot stay here. I cannot wait for Asher or anyone else to protect me. Not anymore. The forest is eerily quiet now. Dew drips from leaves, soaking my hair and jacket. My senses are alive, each sound magnified—the distant call of a bird, the snap of a twig under some unseen animal, the faint rustle of wind through branches. I adjust my footing and move slowly, deliberately, along the path that leads toward my old home. My chest tightens with anticipation and anxiety, but the voice
Underneath The Moonlight 37: Into the Wrong Night
I don’t tell anyone I’m leaving. That decision settles in my chest long before I move, heavy and deliberate, like a door closing without a sound. It isn’t secrecy for the sake of it. It isn’t fear of being stopped. It’s ownership. The house sleeps around me, breathing slow and deep, unaware of the line I’m about to cross. Wood creaks softly beneath my feet as I move through the hallway, careful to step where I know the floor won’t complain. I’ve memorized these things—the sounds, the rhythms, the spaces between people. You learn quickly when you’re never sure how long you’re allowed to stay. I pause at the door. The air on the other side feels different even through the crack, warm and alive, carrying the weight of summer and something wilder beneath it. I slide m
Underneath The Moonlight 36: Resolve
After training, I pad silently through the corridors of the pack house, careful not to let my footsteps echo against the polished floors. The day has been long, the sun high, and the warmth outside only reminds me of the cage I feel within these walls. I don’t belong in this life yet, I tell myself. Not fully. Not until I know the truth. And today, the truth feels close. A faint murmur drifts from one of the larger rooms down the hall. Voices I recognize—Asher’s low, commanding tone, Lucien’s steady baritone, and another I can’t place immediately. The door is slightly ajar. My pulse skips. I know I shouldn’t listen. I know I shouldn’t sneak. But every fiber of me urges me to stay, to hear. I press myself against the wall,
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